4 times Irene Adler kissed Sherlock Holmes
by Aussieflower
Summary: ...and one time he kissed her back! Enjoy, and please review!


**Hello again :) So, I am once again writing one of these five times...fics, I just can't seem to get them out of my head. Anyways, I hope you like this. I've changed something here a little, namely Irene and Sherlock having dinner. I know most authors prefer them to ****"****have dinner" right after Karach, but I decided to alter that a bit for this particular fic. I have offered an explanation though, so it shouldn't seem to OOC.**

**Enjoy reading xx**

_**4 Times Irene Adler kissed Sherlock Holmes and one time he kissed her back**_

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**Karachi**

The first time she kissed him was right after he rescued her in Karachi. It was a proper kiss this time, not just her lips brushing his cheek like they had done so many months ago in his living room.

Irene blamed it entirely on adrenaline, though she knew very well that it was something more.

But she had been expecting to die for weeks, and Sherlock Holmes had come in at the last second. After thinking that her death was definitely decided for so long, she couldn't help the flood of emotions that overcame her.

And so the second that he had turned to her, after having knocked out the few jailers, he found her suddenly pressed against him, arms around his neck, her lips brushing his.

Sherlock blamed the fact that he actually kissed her back entirely on adrenaline, although he knew it was something more.

At the beginning he had been suprised by her actions, his mind sorting through the several possibilities why she was doing this. Emotions were not his strong point, and in the first couple of seconds he analysed the kiss, his mind storing the all the data: The way her lips felt against his, how her lips were slightly dry from lack of water and yet still sweet and soft, and how her body was pressed up against his.

His rationality didn't last very long, and a few seconds in he finally succumbed to the kiss.

Neither was sure how long it lasted, but Sherlock was the first to break it off.

"We need to go" he told her. He hated to admit it, but he wanted to keep kissing her (purely for experimental reasons of course). He knew that there were people after them however, and if he wanted to make sure that Irene remained safe, they needed to get a move on.

But something between them shifted that night.

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**Mistletoe**

Irene visited, now and then, whenever she grew bored of her now average life and wanted the thrill of danger and excitement. Sherlock was hardly happy that she was risking the life he had set up for her by coming to London, but at the same time he looked forward to her visits.

Neither of them would ever admit it, but they missed each other.

Sometimes she would only stay for a few hours, other times she would stay a few days. But no matter how long she and Sherlock were together, there was always severe sexual tension between them.

Both of them almost enjoyed it, though they knew that it wouldn't be too long before either of them finally snapped.

She visited him on Christmas day.

John was spending the afternoon with Sarah, Mrs Hudson was visiting her sister, and Sherlock was alone.

He didn't understand how she always knew when the others were out.

The flat was all decked up for Christmas, much like the previous year. Sherlock's skull was covered by a Santa hat, tinsel covered every free space, Christmas lights adorned the walls, and Mistletoe hung everywhere (Courtesy of Mrs Hudson).

Sherlock already knew Irene was in his flat, he could smell her perfume and hear the slight creaking noises. She knew that he was aware of her presence, and he took his time coming out of the bedroom.

She was sprawled out on the sofa, eyes closed, looking perfectly at peace. Her eyes opened when she heard his footsteps.

He raised his eyebrows with an amused expression, and sat down in the armchair, facing the fire. Though neither of them had spoken, the sexual tension in the room was already high.

He asked her about how she was doing, in a light and emotionless tone. Then he rose to make tea, needing a simple task to distract himself with. He didn't notice that she had gotten up, and was walking towards him.

But when he turned around, they were suddenly only centimetres apart, and their breathing heightened slightly.

Irene glanced up at the ceiling. "Mistletoe" she said, her tone clear and confident as always, but her voice wobbled very slightly. Part of her wanted to laugh at this rather film like situation they currently found themselves in, but her laugh died in her throat.

Sherlock stared at her with his intense gaze. His breath caught in his throat, as he remembered the last instance of them kissing. The memory was almost pleasant, and he felt a sudden desire to kiss her again.

"Yes" he exhaled, his heart suddenly picking up speed. His hand went slowly to hers, his finger softly tracing the skin, and coming to a rest on her pulse point. His eyes softened when he felt the quick, unsteady beats.

He wasn't sure who leant in first, but suddenly he was kissing her, and she was kissing him back. Their lips brushed each other gently, almost teasingly, before both of them suddenly snapped. Her hands tangled in his hair, his pulled her against him tightly and his tongue brushed her lips. Both were utterly lost in the kiss, and completely oblivious to anything else that happened around them.

At that moment John and Sarah entered, with absolutely impeccable timing.

If Sherlock and Irene hadn't been so absorbed in the kiss, they would have been greatly amused by the look of stunned shock on Sarah and John's faces.

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**The case**

Irene grew to be a regular part of Sherlock's life, and though people were curious as to whom she was, after a few months, they stopped asking.

John had moved in with Sarah, if only temporarily, which meant that Irene and Sherlock grew closer. For a man who preferred to work alone, Sherlock had to admit that he had grown rather dependable on several people.

As strange as it seemed, Irene and Sherlock never had dinner. They kissed, but that was about it.

Irene understood why though, and she knew that Sherlock's feelings matched her own. When she had started flirting with him, all those months ago, while she still played the part of dominatrix, it was just an innocent innuendo, and one that she secretly hoped he would eventually respond to.

But now it was something very different.

She…_cared_ for Sherlock, and he returned the sentiments. What they had was undefinable, which made it even more complicated. Irene knew sex as a physical act, not as a romantic one.

Sherlock may have been called the virgin by Moriarty, but now that term could also be applied to Irene.

Sure, she had had sex with people more times than she could count, but that was just sex. Making love to someone was so extremely new, and she had absolutely no experience in it.

Once again, she and Sherlock were evenly matched.

And so she never asked about dinner, and neither did he.

But he enjoyed her company, especially now that he had lost John's.

She accompanied him on cases now and then, and saw everything he did, and more.

He wasn't sure if that pleased him or irritated him.

One day they were both following a criminal for Lestrade. The criminal was a clever man, and seemed to have a sixth sense for anyone who wished him wrong.

Irene and Sherlock managed to follow him for about 5 minutes, before he seemed to feel their gazes on is back. He turned around, and stared at them.

Normally Sherlock would have just kept walking, and remained inconspicuous that way, but Irene had a different idea.

Just as the man was turning around, she grabbed Sherlock by the hand, and pulled him in for a kiss. Sherlock frowned slightly, wondering what the hell she was doing, but once again, his mind seemed drastically weakened when he felt her lips against his, and he decided that the criminal could go to hell.

Too soon for his liking, Irene pulled away.

"There" she said satisfied, but kept hold of his hand. Sherlock stared at her.

"There what?"

Irene raised her eyebrows. For a genius, he could be extremely oblivious sometimes.

"He suspected us" she told him. "Now he thinks we're just any ordinary couple."

Ahhh. That was…rather clever.

"We'll need to keep up the act until we catch him though" Irene continued. "Otherwise he will realise."

She started swinging their joined hands, and curled slightly into him, playing the perfect example of the happy girlfriend.

Sherlock had to admit that tracking down a criminal had never been this pleasant before.

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**Valentine's Day.**

She didn't visit that day.

He had to admit that he was a little put out.

For the first time in possibly forever, he knew what the 14th of February was. He didn't really remember how he had acquired the information (most likely through John or Molly), but somehow he expected her to drop by that day.

John suspected that something was up, and was fairly sure it had something to do with Irene. He had noticed that she and Sherlock had got rather close, and so he decided it was probably safest to vacate the flat for the day. Who knew what two people like Irene and Sherlock could get up to on Valentine's Day… (And besides, he wanted to spend the day with Sarah anyway, so it was a win -win situation.

He left at about midday, and noticed that Sherlock almost looked as if he were pouting.

John smiled to himself in amusement, and hoped that when he got back to the Baker Street in the evening, the flat would still be there, intact (if Irene and Sherlock got into a fight….)

Of course, John was fairly sure that Irene and Sherlock would be having dinner, and he had no idea that nothing of the sort hadn't happened yet.

Sherlock stood by the window sill, slightly irritated, occasionally playing a few harsh notes on his violin. When he got bored he checked the answering machine, and groaned as he listened to the Valentine's Day message that Molly had left him.

After a few hours of waiting, he finally received a text. It wasn't exactly what he had been hoping for, but it was better than nothing.

_Happy Valentine's Day. Has Molly gathered up the courage to ask you out yet, or has she merely left a message on the answering machine?_

_Irene x_

He laughed at the text message, but decided not to reply for at least five minutes, so that she wouldn't think he had been waiting for something like this all day.

When he got no reply to his text (which was unusual and annoyed him greatly) he decided to go out for a walk.

He walked towards the Southbank, disappearing in the crowds of people. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice the blonde woman in front of him turn around, and only realised she was there when she kissed him on the lips.

She was gone before he could blink, but he saw her form making its way through the crowd, and knew exactly who it was.

He knew that he would see her at Baker Street later.

He took out his phone, and typed a text.

_About time._

_SH_

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**Dinner reservations and Anderson don't mix.**

About a year after Irene started visiting, she and Sherlock started turning up at New Scotland Yard together, helping Lestrade solve cases.

Unlike Sherlock, Irene was vastly popular with all the officers, especially the male ones.

This did not please Sherlock very much.

Although he had established that he and Irene shared some sort of relationship, it didn't make it any simpler to know how he should act around her.

In private it was easier.

In private it was just the two of them, and both felt equally awkward and strange in the situation they found themselves in, although they did not necessarily find it unpleasant. But they both understood how the other was feeling, knew the other's strengths and weaknesses, which made it all so much easier.

But being together in public was very, very different. Sherlock had no idea whether or not he should act the typical boyfriend role…because he certainly wasn't like everyone else, and because he would never ever define himself as Irene's boyfriend.

He shuddered at the thought.

But then how should he act in public with her? Let everyone know that they shared some sort of undefinable relationship and prove to others that she was his?

(Except she wasn't his, not at all. She was like smoke, drifting freely through the wind, free, unable to be held or caught by anybody. She disappeared as quickly as she came, and Sherlock could never keep hold of her.)

The other option would have been to simply pretend they were mere acquaintances, and act as cold and as alienated to her as he did to practically everybody else.

It seemed almost strange, treating her in this manner, but in a way also naturally comfortable. For a while he could pretend that he was still emotionless, that he still didn't bother with sentiment, and that he still knew himself, and understood his own feelings.

Of course, none of that was true anymore.

But he could pretend.

And so, this was the option he chose to go by. Irene never protested.

Irene however, was slowly starting to wish that hers and Sherlock's relationship could progress further. She harboured genuine feelings for this man, and not simply because he proved to be a distraction or a near impossible puzzle to figure out, but because she cared for him. She had never really had a male figure around her who held her, who comforted her, who wanted her without the sex involved.

There were times where she was certain that Sherlock wanted the same as she did, but neither of them was really ready to say it yet. Voicing their need for each other was losing, it was admitting defeat.

And so they kept going as they usually did: showing small signs of affection and enjoying the sexual tension between them while they were alone, and acting cold and unaffected while in public.

It was no surprise then, that most of the male officers at the yard though her to be unattached and single. They had speculated about Sherlock very briefly, but had decided that there was nothing between the two of them, unless one could count the similarity that they both enjoyed solving crimes and were extremely clever.

And so men swarmed to her like bees. Anderson barely even bothered to conceal his feelings about Irene (which completely enraged Sally), while others were slightly more subtle. But all of them were drawn to her.

Even Lestrade.

He couldn't help it. Irene was naturally charming, but she wasn't sweet and naïve. Instead, she had a wild streak, and there was something in her eyes that said danger. But at the same time she was warm and funny and clever.

Besides, his wife was cheating on him anyway, so what was the harm? It wasn't like it was anything _serious_.

Sherlock walked in one day, while a majority of the males of the homicide division were clustered around Irene, listening as she related how she had managed to solve one of the murder cases.

Sherlock was rather irritated when he saw the scene.

The first reason he felt irritated was a small one, especially in comparison to the other, but it still annoyed him.

People never listened to _him_ like this when he explained how he managed to catch the criminal. Instead they would simply nod at him and walk away, if they were polite.

But Irene had all the attention she could have wished for.

And that brought him to the second thing that annoyed him. Irene was completely surrounded by _men_.

Anderson sat wedged in next to her, not looking as if he minded the tight position he was in one bit. Instead, he was grinning like a cat that had just got the cream, and one hand was almost draped around Irene's shoulders.

Hell, even Lestrade was sitting close to her, leaning in, and either pretending to be or actually being fascinated by what she said. Sherlock scowled. This was not good.

People noticed him come in, and some even nodded at him, while other simply turned away. Sherlock saw that his plan to act all cold and detached might not have been as clever as it had seemed.

But he couldn't really change his tactic now, so he sat down near Irene in sulky silence. Irene saw his pout and almost laughed. It was rather endearing.

After a while, Sherlock grew frustrated and decided it was high time he and Irene leave. He went over and cleared his throat. Half of him knew what he was about to say, while the other half was shocked at his impulsiveness.

"Irene" he said, and looked at her, almost intruding on her personal space. "We have _dinner_ realisations."

Lestrade looked up at him in surprise, but it did not match Irene's shock. She stared up at Sherlock.

Could it really be that after all this time, he was letting her win?

Or was he? Maybe she had already won, and hadn't noticed it. Or maybe Sherlock wasn't losing.

Perhaps taking the next step meant winning – this time for both of them.

"Dinner reservations?" she asked, needing to make sure that she had heard right. Sherlock closed his eyes, almost resigned, but when he opened them, they were trained only on her, with a look of such extreme intensity that it almost made her weak in the knees.

And that never ever happened to her.

"Yes."

Irene stood up, almost oblivious to the others around her, who were all staring at her and Sherlock, utterly mystified.

"Are you sure?" she asked, but a tiny smile danced on her lips.

Sherlock nodded, and was about to say something, when he was interrupted by Anderson.

"Don't tell me that _now_ you've finally decided to eat something!" he said in a partly slimy and partly outraged voice. He was pretty annoyed. Sherlock never ate anything, and now he had decided to take Irene out to dinner?

Sherlock simply stared at him.

"I finally got hungry" he said and smirked slightly. Irene raised her eyebrows, and turned to leave.

The other officers grumbled slightly, and walked away, back to their respective duties. Anderson scowled; much like Sherlock had done, and pretended to walk back to his office, but secretly watched the two of them.

Only Irene and Sherlock remained in the room.

"You're finally going to have dinner with me" Irene almost marvelled, a teasing smirk hovering around her mouth. Sherlock smirked too and leant in.

Anderson's eyes widened.

Sherlock was kissing Irene Adler.

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**Hope you enjoyed that and please review! I love reviews! Reviews feed my inspiration to write :P**

**Laura xxx**


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